Like Moth to Flame
by DarlingDeathMachine
Summary: Convinced that Loki no longer cares for her, Sigyn leaves Asgard to be reborn as a mortal on Earth. And as the last remaining thing Loki held close leaves him, will it spur him to walk a path of redemption? Or toss him further into madness? Set after the events of The Avengers. AU. LokixSigyn/LokixOC
1. Prologue Chapter One: Return

_A/N: (Nov 18th, 2012) I have decided to revise and rewrite the nine chapters that I've posted thus far. I wasn't entirely happy with my writing before, and I feel a lot more confident with these updates. I'll be doing them one at a time as to not pressure myself. So here is the first repaired chapter out of nine. _

_And welcome to my story~_

* * *

_{"What are you suffering for? Your pride, or some kind of personal war?And will you throw it away? For nothing more than a simple taste?"}_

* * *

In the courtyards of Asgard, a blue light erupted, penetrating the serene dusk that was blanketing the realm. In the midst of its blinding brilliance, two figures were summoned forth. Two men; The chosen heir, and the lost prince of Asgard. In one hand each, they held a device that cradled a pulsating, azure cube, responsible for their transportation.

The Tesseract.

As soon as the momentary disorientation wore off, the cradle was wrenched from Loki's grasp. He was muzzled, wrists bound by shackles, his eyes of ice reflected nothing warmer as they leered maliciously at Thor.

"Father will be awaiting us, brother."

Loki gave a disgusted scoff from beneath the muzzle. Every insult, every curse, every demand to set him free of his bonds could be read through his eyes.

"Loki, do you not even comprehend the severity of your actions? You've prompted the involvement of Forseti and Syn. Are you not even the least bit-"

Loki's bound hands raised, palms open; He wanted silence.

"... Very well, brother." Thor nodded his head, complying to the demand for quiet. However, not everyone planned to honor the request.

"_Ahem_..." A harsh clearing of the throat breached the silence, catching both of their attention.

"Ah, good evening, Gatekeeper." The Thunder God greeted Heimdall.

"You and your... '_Brother_', have been summoned to the King's Hall. Relinquish the Tesseract, and follow me." Heimdall instructed the two.

Loki didn't acknowledge the order, didn't even blink, he would not have made any movement at all had Thor not grabbed his elbow.

"Come, Loki."

He was tugged along by force as they walked the path to Valaskjalf. There was much tension in the air, the hostility was so palpable, it felt suffocating. Denizens of Asgard began to emerge from their homes, looking on with spite and muttering amongst themselves as Loki took his walk of shame. He scowled, chest heaving with building rage and scorn, feeling utter humiliation. And there was nothing he could do to shut it out or stop it.

* * *

When they reached the Hall, Heimdall threw open the doors to the throne room. Until that time, Loki had barely attempted to resist his brother's 'guidance'. But he pulled back, making a futile effort to release his arm from Thor's grip, ultimately refusing to cross the threshold.

"You must." Thor whispered, his brow furrowed apologetically as he tightened the hold and pulled the God of Mischief with more force, joining Heimdall at the foot of the daïs.

Upon the throne, Odin stared down at the three, visage entirely void of expression.

"My King." Heimdall bowed, "With the Tesseract back in our possession, access to the Nine Realms is once again available to us."

"The Tesseract would be best kept in your hands, Gatekeeper... You remember where you must go?"

"Of course I do, my lord."

"Quickly, then."

Thor and Loki shielded their eyes as Heimdall disappeared in a burst of blue light. The Allfather's gaze fell upon his two sons.

"Where does Heimdall go?" Thor inquired, curious as to where Odin had ordered him to.

"Never you mind... Bring him forth." When the two shuffled closer, Odin turned to Thor and simply said, "Leave."

The God of Thunder was taken aback by the demand, "But... Father?" He tried to protest.

"**Now**!"

Thor's eyes widened in astonishment, though knew it best to not disobey at this point in time. He tossed Loki one last glance before taking his leave. The gaze went unmet.

"My son..." Odin said, immediately receiving a vicious look from Loki, full of contempt for the King's choice in addressing him, "You have brought shame upon this realm, dishonor upon this family, and upon yourself. Your pride in your actions is _unacceptable_. Have you anything to say for yourself?!" With a flick of the Allfather's wrist, the muzzle fixed upon Loki's maw vanished.

The God of Mischief's posture straightened as he glared up at his 'father', "You would think, but nothing comes to mind." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"You foolish boy. Do you really believe conquering Midgard would have gained you anything?"

"Why should I tell you what I '_believe_'? What's my word worth to you, hm? Why don't you spare me this painful small talk, I know you plan to toss me into the 'lion's' den."

"... I had no other option left. For you heinous crimes and selfish actions, you will be called before Forseti and Syn in a grand trial where your punishment will be decided." The Allfather stated his decision.

"_Heh_. Their ruling and punishment will change nothing. I've not a thing to lose. You're wasting your time, and so are they." Loki sneered maliciously.

"Nothing to lose? You stand to lose _everything_! And for what? A _throne_?! For false kingship?!"

"For _**EQUALITY**_!" The corridors chimed, carrying the echo of Loki's disgruntled cry.

Once the reverberation died down, there was absolute silence. The verbal standstill didn't manage to last for long. The glowing portal created by the Tesseract alerted Heimdall's return. But he did not come back alone. Holding the other end of the Tesseract cradle was a woman of sylphlike stature. Her mass of chocolate-brown hair was a matted mess, crowned with a halo of flowers and willow branches; The remnants of whatever garment she once wore was torn, and utterly deconstructed.

"Welcome home to Asgard." Heimdall said.

She did not acknowledge the welcome. She could not pry her attention from the god on shackles. With bottom lip quivering, the woman managed to stutter,

_"L-Loki_? Is that... Is that you?"

His breath caught in his throat. That voice... _Her_ voice.

And slowly, Loki turned to look at her. Their eyes locked immediately, and his mouth opened to allow a name to leave his lips.

"... Sigyn."

* * *

_A/N: So if you've read this before, did I improve it? I hope so, because I feel I did :) But all comments can be left in a review or in a PM to me. I welcome it all :)_

_{Song excerpt from 'To a Friend' by Alexisonfire.}_


	2. Prologue Chapter Two: Truth

_A/N: (Nov 21, 2012) After deliberating, I'm just going to revise the prologue chapters. They were the chapters that bothered me. Mostly because of length and basic lack of content. So again, just the prologues are getting revamped at this point in time. Unless there's a problem with my other chapters? .-. You guys need to let me know, okay? _

* * *

_{"The stop-and-start machine. _

_You've been singing with a liar's tongue."}_

* * *

It had been a while since he saw her last. Seeing Sigyn stand across the room from him, looking as disheveled and misplaced as he must have, made him realize just how long they'd been apart. Loki bit down on the inside of his lip, questioning even while she lay stranded in the realm of Alfheim, if she had been delivered word of his actions.

"It _is_ you! Oh, Loki... I'm so glad you're alive!" She exclaimed with an alleviated tone.

Sigyn's first instinct was to rush over and embrace. A plan that was foiled by Heimdall. His arm hooked around her waist, holding her tight to his armor clad body.

"H-Heimdall?! Let me go!" Sigyn thrashed against the restraint, filled with an immediate sense of desperation.

"This is a matter that does not concern you, Lady Sigyn." The Gatekeeper informed as he began to drag her away forcibly.

"Heimdall, _please_! I need to see him, I beg of you!" The goddess wriggled about, her legs kicked furiously in her attempt to break free.

When her efforts seemed ineffectual, hot tears began to fill her ducts. She had spent all this time mourning the loss of Loki, believing him to be dead and gone forever. To see him stand mere meters away and be denied the chance to confirm this was reality was not an option to her. She needed to know that this was no dream, no illusion. That she was not still stranded on Alfheim. She had to know...

Her skin became hot, like a volcanic inferno had erupted in her veins. It didn't take long before Heimdall felt it as well; The sections of his armor that were in contact with Sigyn's body reached blistering temperatures within seconds.

"_**Eurgh**_!" The Gatekeeper winced as his encased flesh was exposed to the molten heat, causing him to recoil in pain.

Sigyn was released, taking the opportunity to run over to Loki, who appeared surprised by the display. She did not wish harm upon Heimdall, but she refused to be manhandled by anyone. It was an overwhelming sense of relief and comfort the goddess felt after throwing her arms around her fiancé. He was as alive and real as her eyes perceived him to be.

Loki had ascertained that no knowledge of the past two years had made its way to Sigyn's ears, allowing him to ease, worry free, into the embrace as much as his bonds would let.

"Oh, love... What have you done?" Pulling away, Sigyn cupped both sides of his face, her focus dropped to his cuffed wrists.

Loki spoke not one word, but simply closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against her palm, breathing in the fragrance of pear and honeysuckle that lingered on her skin. For the first time in two years, he felt comforted.

She lifted her gaze, his countenance was a pale, contused mess upon closer inspection. The deep gash on the bridge of his nose was particularly nasty. This was not what the Goddess of Fidelity expected to return home to.

"Though it lifts my spirits to see you home safe, you must go, Sigyn. You know not of the crimes he has committed. You must leave, you must rest." Odin rose from his throne during his declaration.

Crimes he committed...? Why had nothing been brought to her attention? She understood she was out of the loop, but she didn't expect to be on a different loop completely. Why was it being kept under wraps?

"But..." A look of concern and puzzlement crossed her face.

"Go." Loki spoke up finally, encouraging her dismissal.

Their eyes met, and though she meant to object, she nodded and smiled halfheartedly, "Alright. Alright, I'll go..." Sigyn brought Loki's face close, pressing her lips to his. It was a bittersweet kiss he hardly made an effort to reciprocate.

"I love you, Loki."

"You say that now..." He muttered.

Her brows knitted together tightly at his words. She trudged out of Odin's Hall, feeling even more confused than before.

* * *

Vingolf, the Hall of the Goddesses. Her home... Sigyn had missed Asgard terribly. She could have dropped to the floor and kissed its polished marble. Such an act would be awfully degrading, but she wouldn't deny she had considered it.

Upon entering Vingolf, she was swarmed by her fellow Goddesses; Sif, Eir, Sjofn and the rest. Her friends were a consoling sight for sore eyes. Sigyn wanted to see her brother, Magnus, as well. But she knew there were bigger things to be concerned about.

After 'retiring' to her chamber for the evening, the opportunity to repair her image presented itself. By the snap of her fingers, her tattered garment had been swapped out for a flowing, one-shoulder gown; Its bronze silk was gathered neatly at her waist, a long slit traveled up the left side of the skirt. With another snap, her tangled tresses were combed smooth and swept up into a sleek ponytail. Former glory restored, Sigyn peeked cautiously outside of her room, scanning the immediate area. Tiptoeing quietly through Vingolf, she was careful not to stir any other goddesses from their bed. It seemed juvenile to be sneaking out, especially considering her age.

_("This is a matter that does not concern you.")_

_("You know not of the crimes he has committed.")_

If it concerned her fiancé, it concerned her as well. And how could she be expected to rest while knowing there was something the weren't telling her? The curiosity was maddening, and she wanted answers on what transpired during her absence. And she was going to find out _tonight_.

* * *

It was late, and he was mentally drained. The last thing Thor wanted was a visitor. His nostrils flared in frustration, a scowl creased his brow. He stood from his seat, ready to throw open the doors to his chamber and berate whoever stood on the other side. But they opened before he reached them, a slender figure slipping inside.

"I did not give permission to enter."

"I would have hoped a small exception could be made for me, old friend." Sigyn lifted her head as she stepped out from the shadows, smiling wanly.

"Sigyn! You've returned home... Welcome." Thor approached the goddess, scooping her up in his burly arms.

"Ah, thank-you. It's good to be home..." Sigyn smiled a bit more genuinely.

Thor placed her on her feet with care, "You've come for a reason, I assume. You were never good at hiding you distress. What troubles you?"

Sigyn took his hands up in hers, a pleading expression marked her face, "Thor, I ask a favor... I need you to tell me what has happened. What went on while I was away? What has Loki done...?"

The thunder god sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, "Sigyn, I do not think it wise to inform you of my brother's misdeeds."

"I appreciate your concern, Thor, but I cannot be expected to be at peace until it is made clear. I do not need protection, I need truth. _Please_, Thor. I'm begging you." Sigyn squeezed his hands tightly, tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"I cannot dissuade you, can I?"

She shook her head.

"Very well... Then please find a seat. There is much to tell."

-x-

And into the breaking dawn rang the sorrowful cry of a woman who knew too much.

* * *

_A/N: I'm adding on like, an extra 300 words per chapter, and it's pretty exciting! Also, the Loki's Dirty Whispers blog on tumblr posted one of my submissions! I'm so happy! I had a huge fangirl moment. It was lovely. _

_{Song excerpt from 'I Don't Keep With Liars Anymore' by The Bled.}_


	3. Prologue Chapter Three: Temper

_A/N: (Nov 21, 2012) Well, this chapter sure got revamped. Adding on an extra 500 words or so to this installment. Whoa, hahaha. Good thing too, because this was a chapter that really bothered me. And just to reinform, Magnus was sort of my spin on Tyr, the Norse God of War. So I hope I improved this chapter some. It is a little on the dialogue-heavy side. Just a heads up. _

* * *

_{"Still trying to kill all the ones you claimed left a hole in your perfect life._

_Still running away from the only arms who wanted you as one."}_

* * *

Thor worried for Sigyn. After he recounted what happened during her two-year absence, there was nothing. She had absolutely no reaction. Thor knew Sigyn to be an expressive being, to see her face void of emotion was unsettling. He tried to ask her to share her thoughts, but she had abruptly announced that she needed to leave.

And that's when he heard her howl with despair outside of his Hall.

Her wellbeing was yet another factor contributing to Thor's state of unrest. He had already been up and pacing the room when his servants, Pjálfi and Röskva, had come to awaken him. Much to their surprise.

"My Lord, news has arrived from the Hall of Odin." Pjálfi informed.

"And what message does father send?"

"The date of Loki's trial has been set for the day after morrow." Röskva answered.

"I see..." Thor's eyes drifted to the floor.

Judgement from Forseti and Syn was nothing to take lightly, even if the trial was not his own. They would leave not one stone unturned, they would scrutinize every step Loki had taken, and judge mercilessly as was in their nature. Their pending decision on punishment is what concerned Thor the most. Should they see it got, the penalty of death could and would be issued. And Forseti harbored a sick affection for sending traitors to their death. Thor did not want Loki to die; Blood related or not, Loki was his brother, and he cared for him. Though his crimes were heinous, he was capable of redemption. He just needed to be granted a chance. Could Thor convince the judicators to give Loki that chance?

"My Lord?" Röskva's voice jarred the God from his thoughts.

"I have received the message. If that is all, then it would be wise to leave. I wish for solitude." Thor demanded in his irritable state.

The siblings bowed out as he commanded, leaving him to continue pacing in irked anxiety.

* * *

The waiting seemed almost unbearable. Loki wished they would get his damned trial over and done with. Not necessarily because he wanted to be punished, but because he knew they'd pronounce him guilty as soon as he set foot in the court room. They must be _dying_ to sentence him, why prolong it? Why even bother with a trial? Making him wait in captivity was ridiculous. Should someone visit him, he had to painfully endure it with no way of blocking them out to his five senses thanks to a magic-resistant cell they had sealed him inside. It was utterly humiliating to sit there and be chided.

Frigga had paid him a visit earlier, barely able to express her confusion and disappointment in him through fits of hysterical sobbing. Loki had nothing to say to his 'mother', merely sitting there with a heavy grimace, trying to convey the message that her company was neither appreciated, nor wanted. What a relief it was when she left.

To make matters worse, if even possible, they had put Magnus in charge of his surveillance. The two had never seen eye-to-eye, _especially_ on the topic of Sigyn. Magnus would rather his precious sister be married to a mountain troll than the God of Mischief. It was this mutual hatred that spurred Magnus to come around Loki's cell and taunt him relentlessly. And Loki had to admit, he much preferred being the tormentor, not the tormented. How opportune it was for the prison guard to make his rounds at that time. Loki sat and awaited the mocking to begin, and when it did not come, he glanced up. Magnus indeed stood outside, wearing a most ferocious, yet pained scowl on his face.

"My sister asks to see you... And I do not wish to allow her to do so. You do not deserve to see her. You do not deserve her _at all_." And then he laughed once; It was a short 'heh', filled with regret rather than amusement, "You should be so lucky that I cannot deny my sister anything... I hope she finally sees you for the monster you really are."

"Shut your insufferable maw and let me see her." Loki snarled, having had enough of Magnus's babbling.

His golden eyes burned with a longing to strangle the imprisoned God. To choke every last breath out of Loki until his eyes rolled back, and his heart ceased to beat. He stormed off into the distance, returning moments later accompanied by his sister. To Loki's surprise, Magnus unlocked the cell, allowing Sigyn to enter.

"Consider this a favor. I'll return when half the hour has passed." Magnus stomped away for a second time, leaving the betrothed couple to themselves.

* * *

Loki had taken immediate note of the expression that masked her visage; A swirl of anger, shame and disappointment made even her face difficult to gaze upon. So he turned away, no longer able to take the dissatisfaction he read in her eyes.

"No, Loki. Look at me." She said.

"Darling, I-"

"_Don't_... Please, do not speak. I want you to look at me while I speak to you, and I want you to listen to me." Sigyn waited until his eyes were turned upon her once more before she spoke again.

"I thought you were dead. Never again did I think I'd see your face, or hear you speak, hear you laugh, hold your hands, kiss your lips... How I _mourned_ my loss of you. To see you alive when I was _finally_ able to come home, can you imagine the relief I felt?" She questioned rhetorically, "Until last night, I had no knowledge of anything, aside from the Bifröst being destroyed and your supposed death. I had no knowledge of your wrongdoings... And I just want to know what had compelled you to commit such acts of sheer and utter _stupidity_. You're not a monster, Loki, but what you've done is absolute lunacy! Why?!" Sigyn prodded. Her mind was a whirling tempest of emotions, not entirely sure which she was feeling more of. She had never confronted, or demanded answers out of her fiancé in such a manner as this before. It was proven to be one of the hardest tasks to accomplish.

"'_Not a monster_'? You'd be the only one to think that, Sigyn. No. Since the truth was unearthed about my true lineage, everything I thought I knew, again unknown. Everyone who I thought loved me, turned their backs on me. I became a victim of an even greater liar than myself." Loki snapped at her, now on his feet.

"And what of me?! Does my love count for nothing? What do I care if you're Jötun? I fell for you. I love _you_. Where you come from doesn't matter! Nothing will change the way I feel about you!" Sigyn cried out, her face livid, "Why am I not enough? Does _my_ love, _my_ attention, _my_ devotion really mean that little to you?"

"You weren't even there for me, Sigyn..." He mumbled.

"So you would go and turn this on me now?! Who had control over the Bifröst before provoking Thor to destroy it, leaving me stranded? Who held the Tesseract and had the ability to travel to any realm by will? You could have brought me back here at any given point, and you didn't. Did you just forget? Or did you just not care? If I had known anything, I'd be back here in a heartbeat, right by your side. But at that point, _I_ needed _you_. It's you who wasn't there for me!" Sigyn became animated in her rant, overflowing with feelings of fury and hurt.

This display momentarily stunned the God of Mischief. She never raised her voice to him that way before, never lashed out like this. He could see her earnestly fighting back tears, the chartreuse of her eyes made bright by bloodshot whites. Deep down, it pained him to know what all of this was doing to her, and every second spent in his company seemed to be breaking her down further. He'd prefer she still be in the dark about it all, greeting him with her warm embrace instead of a shouting match. There were many things he wanted, but it was not the time for wishful thinking. Not anymore.

"Do you remember the day you asked for my hand in marriage?" Sigyn spoke softer now, the prolonged silence between them allowed the flushing of her face to dissipate, and her trembling form to steady.

"It's one of the fondest memories I can still recall..." Loki muttered.

"I said 'yes', did I not?"

"You did... Do you regret it?"

"Do I- _What_?" She took a step backwards, as if the question had physically pushed her.

"I asked if you regretted it. Do you wish to take back your answer?" He didn't know what turned him offensive so suddenly, and he couldn't stop, "Do you wish... That you had accepted Freyr's proposal instead?"

From the look on her face, he knew that was one push too far, "_How dare you_?! You would question _my_ fidelity?! The very virtue to which I represent? I said yes to you because you were the one I knew I could spend my eternity beside. And you have _no_ idea how hard I had to fight to be with you, Loki! Absolutely no idea!" Sigyn's hands curled so tightly, nails sinking deep enough into the flesh of her palms to draw blood.

At that moment, Loki was thankful to be in a chamber that suppressed use of magic. Otherwise, she might have combusted into a supernova, setting him ablaze in the process.

"I would never, _ever_ regret, or go back on my decision to marry you... But you are _not_ the same man whose proposal I accepted. You are _not_ the same man I was prepared to dedicate my entirety to... I don't even know who I'm looking at right now, you are nothing but a stranger to me. I so desperately wish I knew what it was I had done to make you stop loving me the way you had in the past... But if I'm not enough to make you happy, then we should not be together." Sigyn could feel every muscle in her heart tear, slowly ripping in two with each word that left her lips, "I love you... But, I can't be here right now. I don't know why I even came."

Everything physically hurt, her head was foggy and her stomach nauseous. She approached the cell door and called for her brother to let her out.

By that time, every word had finally penetrated his thick skull, sinking in to Loki's conscious, igniting a spark of panic, "S-Sigyn, no. Wait, I didn't mean- _Please_, don't leave." He grabbed her arm, wanting her to stay so he could explain himself.

She immediately spun around, a hand striking him across the face, open palm. Loki backed away, more from pure shock rather than pain.

"Do you know how long two years on Asgard equals on Alfheim? ... _Ten_. I spent ten years in their world. _Ten_ years of mourning, _ten_ years filled with grief and homesickness, _ten_ years contemplating whether I should take my own life just so I could be with you again... And I would have rather died there believing what I was told, than have come home to _this_." Sigyn let her inner anguish unleash, rivulets of tears streaming down her cheeks.

When Magnus arrived to release her, she made a swift exit, prompting him to pursue his sister after resealing the cell.

Loki pressed his back against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor. He stared down at trembling hands, fingers splayed,

"And so the monster strikes again..."

* * *

_A/N: Ah, so far this is my largest chapter! Woo! :) _

_Well, anything you can tell me in terms of feedback would be much appreciated in a review. _

_{Song excerpt from 'Crowbait' by The Bled.}_


	4. Prologue Finale: Backlash

_A/N: (Nov. 30, 2012) The prologue chapters are officially updated. Ah. Finally. I hope they've improved some! I worked hard on the revisions. I hope they make you precious readers happy :)_

* * *

_{"I want to love, I want to smile. Get your arms inside my head, and stop me thinking for a while. I'm just a fool, hung on a sting. But since you put these thorns around my head, you know I am a king._

_A king. A king of everything and nothing."}_

* * *

This was his judgement day... Loki had barely budged from his spot on the floor. Why should he bother? Today he'd be brought before the God of Justice, and the Goddess of the Accused...

And what was this he felt? His stomach, unsettled, fluttering about in uncertainty, his heart beating twice as fast, breath shallow. Loki's palms became clammy, a cool chill ran from the nape of his neck, down his spine. His spidery fingers entwined with his onyx locks, pulling just enough to hurt...

This was anxiety. This was fear.

"O fateful day, how I've longed for thee." Magnus hummed contently as he approached the cell. "How pathetic." He commented, seeing Loki still huddled up on the floor.

He had basically been sitting in the same spot ever since Sigyn had run out on him. Loki did not look up, did not move.

"If you do not stand on your own, I will remove you by force. And if you make me lay one hand on your wretched form, I'm not certain you'll be making it to your appointed trial... Alive, anyway." Magnus threatened.

"_Please_, spare me." Loki sneered. He was so sick of this. So sick.

On his feet, he waited for Magnus to unlock his cell and escort him to Glitnir, Forseti's Hall, where the trial would be taking place. Loki walked with Magnus trailing behind in close proximity, each step taken felt like another hole being dug in his grave.

So this was it? This was where it ended? The final chapter in the story, but with no throne, no equality, no one standing behind him...

Loki had nothing.

* * *

The golden pillars and silver ceilings of Glitnir gave a false feeling of luxury. There was nothing remotely sensuous about this place.

It was surprising to find that the courtroom was basically empty. The God of Mischief assumed the entire population of Asgard would have been invited to attend and ridicule him as he was served his 'just desserts'. But no, the only gallery present was Odin, Frigga, and Thor... No sign of Sigyn. He didn't know what to think of their relationship, though it was probably best to not think of it at all.

Ahead he looked, and there they sat with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing him before the trial had even begun. Forseti's black eyes were unnerving to gaze upon, visible from even Loki's standpoint. It had been said that no being could deny their guilt in the presence of his sight. But Loki had no need to deny, he knew he would not even be given the chance to state his case.

Forseti's fingers drummed idly on the arm of his throne, "Leave him where he stands."

"As you wish." Magnus obliged, bowing out of the courtroom.

"What? Don't want to stay for the show?" Loki commented mockingly to his retreating back.

"_Silence_." Forseti boomed, "You do not have permission to speak within the walls of my court."

The God of Mischief pursed his lips; Well at least with Magnus gone, it was one less person left able to revel in the satisfaction of watching his trial unfold.

Then Syn rose from her seat, sweeping back her auburn curls as she took in a deep breath, "Loki Laufeyson, you are brought before us today on charges of high treason, conspiracy, murder, meddling in the affairs of two other realms, abusing your powers as a God, and usurping the throne of Asgard." She addressed Loki. "Your actions have consequently resulted in the destruction of the Bifröst, the decimation of two Midgardian cities, the near obliteration of Jötunheim, and the possibility of an invasion of a race unknown to our kind."

"You forgot to mention that because of me, the Allfather has his precious Tesseract once more." Loki noted nonchalantly.

"What did I _just_ say about keeping your mouth shut?" Forseti hissed down at him.

"Though, his point is valid. We're it not for his outrageous actions, we would still lack portals to our fellow realms." Syn turned to her other.

"One random instance of good fortune does not overturn anything. He dared to sneak Jötunns into our midst while the Allfather was under the Odinsleep. He dared to expose the existence of our kind to the masses of Midgard, and then sought to manipulate them by using the Tesseract, and fear. Do you forget, that had there been no interference in his little 'escapades', the Tesseract would be worlds away, outside the reaches of Yggdrasil, because he had bartered it in exchange for an army? ... This is an _abomination_." Forseti snapped, his hands balled into fists, tight enough to blanch the skin of his knuckles.

"Well, you see, those last two points you made weren't entirely in my control." Loki continued to speak up, despite the constant demand for him to be silent.

"Not in your control...?" Syn muttered, surprised that he was able to deny the full blame, "Forseti-"

"What must we discuss here, Syn?! There is no turning back for him. If he is allowed to live, who's to say he won't try this again? Another plot, another method... He lives in a continual loop of destruction and chaos. Nothing but a lost cause, and a wasted effort." He cut her off to berate Loki, as if he were not even present in the room.

"How dare you speak of my brother that way?!" Thor shot up from the gallery, outraged by Forseti's statement, "He is _not_ too far gone. He can redeem himself."

"Thor, please restrain yourself." Frigga pleaded, tugging gently on her stepson's arm.

"You mind your own damn business, you blithering oaf! I was never your brother!" Loki spat viciously. He didn't need dear _Thor_ to come to his rescue.

"I ordered you to _hold your tongue_!" Forseti was becoming tired of constantly having to repeat his demand for the God of Mischief to be quiet. He turned to Thor in the gallery, "You would speak out of turn to defend one who speaks to you this way? One who does not share your blood, you'd still call your 'brother'?" The God of Justice adopted a bemused expression.

"I believe I've made that quite clear." Thor said, matter-of-factly.

Loki rolled his eyes, wishing to openly gag. Thor just didn't know when to give up. If they were going to sentence his execution, he wished they would get it over with, and spare him from more of his 'brother's' sentimentality.

"How... Quaint." Forseti commented, sitting back in his throne.

"_Oh_. Are you quite done?" Syn uttered, copping an attitude.

"Yes, yes. What were you saying, dear?"

"Well, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted-" She cast her other a sideways glare, "Had you noticed that Loki dismissed the blame for his actions on Earth? Saying it was 'not in his control'? If he was truly guilty, under your gaze he'd be unable to make such a claim. Isn't that so?"

Loki's mouth was suddenly agape, as was Forseti's. "... _Impossible_."

"Not quite. Perhaps we had not delved as deep into the matter as initially thought."

"So what are you getting at?"

"I find Thor's outburst rather compelling... There is no repentance in death." She laced her fingers together in her lap.

Loki suddenly perked up; Not only had the Goddess of the Accused defended him, but now there was a shred of hope that death would not be his fate? He only wished Sigyn could be present. To see and hear that everything she had been told about him was not entirely true.

"So this is a matter of penitence now?... Say that I humor your idea, Syn. What then?" Forseti dared to ask, curious as to what the goddess had on her mind.

"The Isle of Silence... A place where no one can again fall victim to his silver tongue. He'll have all the time in the worlds to reflect upon himself and what he's done. It takes a strong mind to withstand the desolation. It shall be his choice to endure and repent, or sink into an abyss of madness." Syn expressed her thoughts.

Loki cringed at the possibility. He had spent a hefty amount of time drifting in the void of the cosmos before being 'saved' by him. He remembered not caring for it much.

Forseti had taken note of this reaction, a twisted smirk drew up the corners of his mouth. If he could not watch him swing by his neck, he wanted Loki to suffer as much as possible. And as disproportionate to the list of crimes as it was, the alternative promised that very suffering.

"How intriguing. If he does not learn his lesson, he loses his mind... What say you, O God of Mischief? Does it not sound better than having your soul be forever damn to wander the regions of the Dishonored Dead?"

Loki did not speak, only glared up with disgust at the ones presiding over his trial. Perhaps he was too quick to mentally praise Syn. Both of his options were vile.

Without an answer, the God of Justice proceeded, "Loki Laufeyson, on this day I, Forseti, hereby sentence you to be exiled to the Isle of Silence for your crimes, stripped of your magic, until such time when you have achieved full penitence for the sins you have committed. This ruling shall stand, only to be overturned by either myself, or the Alfather, if and when we see fit." Forseti rose from his throne, projecting his final verdict throughout the courtroom.

...

"If that's all, I have a request." Loki said.

"How bold of you." Syn peered down at him, almost in disbelief. He was in no position to demand anything.

"I wish to see Sigyn before I must leave."

Forseti and Syn exchanged glances, then turned to Odin in the gallery. The Allfather nodded once. Both of them stared incredulously for a moment, but Forseti honored the king's allowance,

"Final request granted."

* * *

Loki had pressed for his meeting with Sigyn to be held by the eastern market's ten-tier fountain; The very place he had proposed to her many years ago. A location chosen more for her sake than his, but the nostalgia was still present for him as well. He had to admit to a hint of surprise when he saw her, somehow not expecting her to heed the request. Not after their last time together. Though, something was amiss. Sigyn looked positively ill; Her face was sullen and gray, shoulders hunched, no longer stating her regal posture. He had never seen her look like this. The sole light in his life now burned so dim.

Loki approached the goddess, placing two fingers under her chin to raise her head, "Sigyn..."

"They've told me of your sentence, Loki." She made eye contact briefly before turning away. Her knees wobbled unsteadily, just standing there seemed to require a great deal of effort on her part.

His hand dropped to his side, and his head bowed slightly, feeling shunned.

"You've been given a second chance, you cannot afford anymore mistakes. You must learn to right all of these wrongs, you must change... And you must learn to control and take care of yourself. Because I will not be here when you return."

Loki's head cocked to the side, not entirely sure if he had heard her correctly, "I beg your pardon?"

But she did not speak up again.

"_Sigyn_!" He grabbed hold of her, searching her face for a hint, an answer, anything. His grip immediately loosened on her shoulders; Beneath his grasping fingers, her flesh felt not as skin should, but petrified like stone. "Wha-?"

"I'm sorry... Even if you repair all the damage you've done, especially the damage you have done to yourself, things can never be what they once were. And this is the worst of times for me to be so selfish, but I can't live like this... You broke your promise to me, and now I am breaking mine." The goddess shook her head, "This is where I cease to exist as the Goddess of Fidelity. And this is where we say goodbye, Loki."

"..." Loki had no words at his disposal that could express what he felt or thought. He stood there with his mouth agape, awaiting words of protest to roll off his tongue, only able to come up with, "Where are you going?"

"Earth... I can't unlearn what I've learnt in this form. I am to be reborn, to live and die as a mortal." Sigyn explained.

"No! You... _Can't_. I can change... Things can be like they used to. If that's what you want, I'll make it happen."

"Don't lie to us both, Loki... And don't make this harder than it's already become. As angry as I am with you, I still love you... But I will not be here, waiting to be by your side, when I know you no longer want me there." Sigyn placed her hands on his chest, "If I can just ask one thing of you? Before you forgive anyone else, I want you to forgive yourself... You can do that, can't you?" Her smile was weak, barely gracing her lips.

Suddenly, Loki's eyes widened in bewilderment as he looked at her. Sigyn raised a hand to her cheek, her hardened skin began to crumble away as if she were a weathered statue.

"Wh-What's happening?!"

"This is my new beginning... And yours as well. I wish you luck. Maybe we'll meet again one day..." She leaned in and placed one last kiss on his lips, "Goodbye... Loki..."

Sigyn's body deteriorated before him as he still clung to her, sifting through his fingers. A sweeping breeze rolled by, carrying away what remained of the goddess, soon to be born anew in the body of a mortal.

* * *

_I may get around to revising the other chapters eventually. We'll see how it works out. Hope you enjoyed these revisions! _

_{Song excerpt from 'On My Way to Heaven' by Above & Beyond.}_


	5. Chapter One: Rebirth

_A/N: OKAY, a few super crucial things here. There's a big switch in setting now. Yes, we're back in Manhattan. This was a certain point in my story that was made before I watched the Avengers (This was originally post-Thor), but I'm keeping the setting simply because it's 25 years in the future (though, there's not going to be too many 'futuristic' things) and that's more than enough time to rebuild the city, I think. _

_Also, we're introducing the Reborn!Sigyn, who's a brooding artist of sorts. There will a few other characters involved, and of course I'll be re-introducing Loki. _

_Also going to bump up the rating here. So~ I'm going to say that I hate this chapter as well. My thoughts have derailed quite severely, so I apologize if I'm thrusting you into the new setting. But I'm not going to waste time by pussy-footing around it either. *Ahem* Anyways, onto the story~_

* * *

_{"And as the stars are gazing on dishonest confessions, sailing the sea of nostalgia's revery to send my donations to the cosmos afar. These nothing years haunt me, like vacancy at my last requiem._

_I'm a mortal now._

_On a wild ship, heaving. I close my eyes one last time, so far misunderstood."}_

* * *

Her thumb rolled the dial on the lighter in her gloved hand, igniting flame. Holding it briefly to the tip of a cigarette sandwiched between mauve lips, she took a drag and tucked the lighter away.

Metora exhaled a plume of smoke in one long stream, descending the front stoop of her residence. The sidewalks of Manhattan were anything but empty. The price one paid for living in New York. She shoved her way through an onslaught of bodies, reaching her destination on foot. The downtown district was always bustling. The streets lined with the yellow of taxi cars and every other vehicle in between; Traffic jams in every direction.

She stood on the pedestrian corner, awaiting the change of lights, taking a brief moment to savor the nicotine. But the indulgence went unmet. She felt uneasy. As if someone had been monitoring her every move since she stepped outside. It had been that way for days, at least three now. And it made Metora question as to why she even bothered leaving her penthouse in the first place. This feeling of eyes constantly on her back, watching... The 'Walk' symbol flashed, prompting Metora to shake off her suspicions and cross the street.

Outside a small café, she was flagged down by a tall, lanky young man.

"Always late to the party, Tor." He sighed. She responded by puffing a ring of smoke in his face. "Classy."

"I don't need you to nag me about punctuality, Ainsley. That's not what I pay you for. Besides, I just woke up." Metora provided her excuse.

"_It's four in the afternoon_. Good God, woman..." Ainsley massaged his forehead with the heel of his palm. It was difficult to balance being a friend and a personal assistant, especially with Metora. But this meeting was more business than leisure.

"Have you completed the painting for the Ashburg gallery?"

"_No_, I haven't."

"Metora! The deadline is in two days!"

"I know, Ainsley!" She pursed her lips, tongue poking at the post of her Medusa piercing.

The Ashburg gallery was a big project. The Museum of Modern Art had come to her asking a focal piece to be created for a party celebrating a 20 year milestone for the museum's director, Lawrence Ashburg... Or something. Metora didn't pay much attention to Ainsley when he babbled on about pointless information. A big project promised big money, but this year had been nothing but an uninspired, dry spell. And yet she found herself foolishly accepting the job. And now the deadline was fast approaching, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Is there... Anything I can do?" Ainsley reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, after realizing she had spaced out.

"Yeah, you can take me out to dinner and then we can stop talking about this... I'll think of something. So don't bring it up again." She crossed her arms, spitting her cigarette out on the sidewalk and crushing it under the toe of beige pumps.

"Heh, fine. You're the boss." He chuckled.

"And don't you fucking forget it." She showed a small smile.

"Come on, there's a place a couple blocks from here."

Metora followed Ainsley's lead, a couple steps was all it took before the unsettledness returned.

"Hey... Ainsley? Is there someone following us?" She asked nonchalantly, trying to not make a big deal out of it.

"Wha-?" Ainsley immediately tossed a glance over his shoulder, "I don't think so. Why?"

"... No reason."

* * *

**~It would have to be _here_ of all places. After spending months sweeping the continents, he would end up back here. Reduced to stalking in the shadows, assuming different forms, drawing as little attention to himself as possible... Though twenty-five years had passed since he last set foot in this realm, keeping a low profile was still in his best interest. It brought a bitter taste to his mouth when thinking about the fact that he was slinking around in the background like a coward. But he was certain it was her this time... Well, almost certain. The only way he'd be able to tell was to get in closer... But how?~**

* * *

"_Fuck_!" Metora growled furiously, tossing a half finished canvas clear across the room.

After dinner with Ainsley, she had built up some initiative to take another crack at the painting. But, it was no use. Every stroke of paint, every brush of color, every blend, every concept was a dud. This had been her twentieth attempt that week and each canvas wasted equalled another thirty strands of hair yanked from her head in frustration. She was surprised she wasn't bald yet. But hair loss was really the least of her concerns. Two days in the deadline was slowly ticking down to one, and if the due date came and she showed up empty handed, there went her credibility, her pride, and her paycheck.

Metora paced her bedroom like a caged lion that had been taunted by an audience. Her eyebrows sunk so deep into her scowl, one would be concerned if they were about to fall off her face entirely. Maybe she should just come to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to complete this project. There was no way she could make a painting in a day that appeared to have had three months of effort spilled on its canvas. Metora rarely admitted defeat, but this time around there didn't seem like there was another option. And if she were to admit defeat, then that meant one thing, and one thing only...

She was going to the pub.

-x-

The room was loud; The congregation of multiple conversations, clacking of billiard balls, clinking chimes of glassware... It was perfect. She'd drown her thoughts of failure in the discorded atmosphere, and in,

"Scotch, please!" She slumped onto the barstool, her gloved fingers drumming impatiently on the counter. "And keep them coming." She said once the glass was set in front of her.

Metora shot back the first few rounds of the blended malt, dialing it back to idle sips as one gloved finger drew circles across the lacquered oak bar-top. She sat for a while, off and on the skin on her forearms would prickle and raise in goosebumps as the pungent liquid settled warmly in her stomach. Either the alcohol was causing an increase in paranoia, but she could've sworn she was being watched again... If it were not the same presence she felt each time, Metora doubted she'd be dwelling on the matter. The idea of a stalker was really the last thing she wanted to deal with at the present time.

Her train of thought abruptly derailed when the bartender snapped his fingers in front of her face, causing her to flinch.

"Another round, courtesy of the gent in the corner." He pointed.

Metora's pierced brow quirked up. She took a glance over to the dimly lit booth in the far right, barely making out the face of what looked to be a young man. She raised the glass to him and nodded as a thank-you before swigging back half the contents.

Metora slipped her iPhone out of her jeans pocket to check the time, noting several missed calls from her roommate. It was probably time to head home. She left cash on the bar counter to cover her tab and made her exit. Yawning loudly, her leather-covered digits laced together and stretched out her arms, earning multiple pops from her knuckles. The nighttime was much more settled than the day, but also more dangerous. It didn't bother Metora much to be out alone at a time like this... When she was sober, anyway. Pulling a spare cigarette from behind her ear, she patted down her pockets in search of her lighter.

"_Shit_." She cursed, realizing she had emptied everything on her nightstand, but only remembered to swipe her keys as she left.

Metora looked around, seeing no one in the immediate area. She slowly peeled off one of her gloves and pressed her finger to the end of the cigarette. Her fingertip emitted a small surge, and the cigarette began to smolder. As Metora inhaled, she went to replace her glove, but a hand suddenly grabbed her elbow.

"What the-?!" She spun around in her surprise. In the dark, she couldn't make out the face at all.

"Let go!" Her bare hand latched on to the stranger's wrist. Before she could control what was happening, her hand suddenly pulsed, radiating a blistering wave of heat.

"_**Eurh**_!" Came the surprised growl of the man, he drew back instantly.

"Fucking _creep_! Stay away from me!" Metora shouted, taking the opportunity to start sprinting away.

Running four blocks without stopping, Metora finally looked over her shoulder. No one had followed her, and she didn't feel as though she was being surveillanced either. She stopped to catch her breath. In her panic, she had ran the opposite direction of her home. Not willing to take any chances, she sought refuge in a small diner and pulled out her phone to call her roommate to come pick her up, praying that was the last she saw of her "stalker".

* * *

**~Staggering backwards into an alley, he quickly inspected his wrist. The burn throbbed and stung, and he mentally kicked himself for such a stupid approach.**

**But he saw her eyes... Those that could not be mistaken easily for another's. And he couldn't help but chuckle a little.**

**"Heh... _Found you_."~**

* * *

_A/N: I think I'm taking a big chance posting this the way it is now... If there's any questions, feel free to leave it in a review or PM me. _

_Anyway, thanks to all who've reviewed, followed or faved. You guys are great. _

_{Also, that little excerpt at the top came from a song called, 'The Sound of Glaciers Moving' by Corelia. I think the whole album of their's matches up with Loki and Sigyn's relationship near the end. Especially that part. I may add lyrics at the top of other chapters too, we'll see.}_


	6. Chapter Two: Night at the Museum

_A/N: New document uploaded because of all the appalling spelling and grammatical errors. Of which I'm completely ashamed of. I hoped I've fixed them all. _

_So again, thank you to skywriter23 who reviews all of my chapters. I very much appreciate it, my friend. _

_And once more, here's a chapter portraying Loki's lost touch of the basic art of socializing x)_

_{Song excerpt from Unchained by Lacuna Coil.}_

* * *

_{"Now I've found my way to solid ground. I've left behind the feeling that I've been a fool. I feel much stronger now. _

_I am not the same, you know."}_

* * *

"Hey! Are you okay?" Metora's roommate, Lola, entered the diner and sat with her in the booth.

"Yeah..." Metora sighed, sipping a cup of black coffee.

"So what the hell happened?" Lola questioned, resting her inked arms on the table, leaning in closer. Metora hadn't bothered to explain exactly what had her stirred up in such a frenzy to her friend over the phone. It scared Lola half to death to hear such urgency in her voice, forcing her to bolt from the penthouse in her nightgown to come to the rescue.

"Well, when I left the bar I was trying to have a fucking smoke, and some creep grabs me out of nowhere." Metora grimaced down at the cup in her hands.

"_What_?! Were you hurt?... Hey, wait. Where's your other glove?"

"That's the thing... I didn't have my lighter. I swear, I looked in every direction before I lit the damn cigarette myself, and then all of a sudden, I'm getting grabbed by someone who has appeared out of thin-_fucking_-air." She flexed the fingers on her bare hand before balling it into a fist, "I dropped my glove and burned the guy and then ran. I didn't even get a good look at whoever it was, I just... Ran."

"Well, what did you expect to do? Whether you saw a face or not, I don't think he'll be bugging you again... I'm just glad you're okay. Geez, you scared the shit out of me with that call." Lola sat back and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Can we go home? I'd like to go to bed." Metora grumbled, digging spare change out of her pockets to pay for the coffee.

"Of course, hon. Let's go."

* * *

Metora's walk was brisk, charging through her home, tossing her other glove blindly across the room. The initial thought of going to sleep off the scotch and scare was pushed out of her mind. Her brain kicked gears into motion that had been rusting away for awhile.

She dug out a fresh canvas, brushes, and her acrylic paints, setting up an easel. What exactly was so inspiring about the hellish day she just experienced? She didn't know, didn't care. Metora had been void of artistic passion for too long. Taking a larger brush, she swiped a shade of red diagonally across the blank canvas, using a clean brush to blend it out, fading the hue to opposite corners. Playing with violets and black tones, she swirled and mingled the wet paint, adding white to subtract vibrancy and create contrast. Adding yellows and ochres to the canvas once half-dry, Metora was swept up in the moment; Her heart was racing. It was exciting to be painting with purpose now, not like the slack-ass, pitiful work she had been producing in desperation.

Into the early hours of the morning, Metora painted, succumbing to sleep only when she could no longer manage holding her paintbrush up, and when her eyes became too heavy to even squint through. But she fell into slumber with a satisfied smirk on her face.

She achieved the impossible.

* * *

It was the date of the gallery celebration. Ainsley accompanied Metora to the museum to hand off the painting and partake in mingling on her behalf. She didn't do the socializing thing; It was a miracle if he could convince her just to dress and show up to an event her art was a part of.

"Ah, ah! Ms. Novum! I'm so pleased you could make an appearance." Director Ashburg approached the two; He was a middle-aged man, simply beaming with glee. He extended his hand to the artist.

Her cream-leather cloaked hand grabbed his in a firm handshake, "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Metora smirked lightly. Her motive was entirely selfish, she needed to gauge the reactions to this piece.

The initial confidence had since worn off, and the fear of failing to meet such a high standard compelled Metora to linger around the party.

"Is this my painting?" Director Ashburg eyed Ainsley, who had been holding the canvas that was veiled by a black satin sheet.

"It is, sir. Is there somewhere I can set this up?" Ainsley wondered.

"Ah, yes. Let me show you."

The two left Metora to herself. There were a lot of attendants at this event, all dressed to the nines, chatting amongst themselves, sipping wine spritzers. She wasn't interested in that. She decided to walk around and view the other pieces compiled in the gallery. Pacing herself as she circled the room, Metora was rejoined by Ainsley.

"Come here." He tugged the sleeve of her blouse, pulling her to where the Director his associates gathered.

"Ms. Novum, first I'd like to thank you for accepting this task. It's nice to see such fresh talent. May we uncover it now?" Ashburg questioned, looking more than eager to see what was lying beneath the veil.

"Be my guest." She offered, nodding once.

Ainsley grabbed the obscuring fabric and pulled it off the canvas. Metora bit down on the inside of her cheek and braced for the reaction. And when none came, she felt her heart sink and her ego slowly start to bruise. But before she could even think about storming out of there, Director Ashburg initiated the slow clap, his associates followed his lead. Soon, the entire room had turned their attention to the commotion and joined in the applause.

"_Marvelous_! The palette choice is simply gorgeous... It seems to give me a certain sense of melancholy and distress, but I'm not complaining. I know the mind of an artist, rarely find any sunshine and ponies... I must reinstate my sense of gratitude, Ms. Novum. Your reputation most certainly precedes you."

Metora sighed internally, utterly relieved at the Director's compliment. Not too shabby, if she did say so herself. While a mass of patrons came to fawn over the focal piece, Ainsley had indicated that he was going to go grab the two of them a flute of champagne to toast her accomplishment over. She stood off to the side by herself, relishing the moment.

"Lovely painting... I believe you dropped this yesterday." Someone had leaned in from behind, whispering directly in her ear; A deep, sultry, accented voice of a man that made Metora's breath hitch as she was handed the missing black suede glove.

Her lungs locked, holding tight in her chest, heart beating in trepidation. A hand reached over her shoulder and twirled a section of cappuccino-colored hair. Where was Ainsley when she needed him?

"What do you want..." Metora spoke as steadily as she could.

"Oh, come now, no need to be so tense. I have no intention of causing you harm, I'd just like to have a word with you. You do owe me an apology." He murmured.

"Last I checked, I didn't need to apologize for being grabbed by a stranger in the dark." She growled, swatting his hand away. Whoever this guy was, he was a stalker on a whole new level. "I suggest you leave me alone. Otherwise, next time I get my hands on you, I won't let go until your skin melts."

"Now, now. This is a big night, no? We wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?"

Her face contorted; Would he dare cause a commotion if she refused to bend to his whim? That wasn't really a chance she wanted to take.

"I'll be waiting outside. I'm giving you five minutes. And trust when I say, you do not want to stand me up." She slowly heard him walk away.

Breathing normally, trying to settle her heartbeat, Metora didn't know what to do. Ainsley came up beside her and passed her the champagne flute, she shot gunned the beverage before he had time to praise her last-minute achievement.

"_Whoa_, hey... What's wrong, Tor?" He scratched his head in confusion.

"Nothing. I'm going out for a smoke." She waved him off.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'm a big girl, Ainsley. I can go by myself, thanks." Metora snapped her refusal. But deep down, she knew she didn't want to go out there alone.

* * *

She'd never seen anyone like him before. The construct of his face was divine, and though he appeared human, there was something in the back of her mind telling her that such physical beauty did not exist in her world. It made her openly stare, not only due to intrigue, but also the vague hint of nostalgia she felt from looking in his eyes.

He noticed the way she was looking at him, like she was attempting to match a name to his face. He wondered, was there a chance that even a fraction of her memory lay intact?

"So are you going to tell me who the hell you are and what you want? Because if not, I'm going back inside." Metora's thin eyebrows raised high in a sudden impatience.

"Heh..." He scoffed, assured that she did not remember after all, "I'm the one known as 'Loki'."

Her eyebrows scrunched together in an expression of scrutiny, "Loki? Like, the Norse God? Who names their kid after characters of lore these days..."

"Oh no, no. Not quite _'like the Norse God_'. I'm the original, you see." Loki corrected her.

"... Are you really trying to convince me that _you_," Metora gestured, "Are in fact, Loki, the God of Mischief?"

There was a pause; He had given her a look to say, 'Do I look like I'm type to joke around?'

"_Wow_... You are insane. Is that why you've been stalking me? To play a game?" She wanted to laugh, having a hard time believing she was actually afraid of this clown.

"_No_." He gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Then why? What's so special about me? There are millions of people here, maybe you should pick a more gullible one, and leave me alone."

Loki's mouth opened, as if to speak... But, what was he to say? 'You and I were once engaged in a world far from here. In fact, you're not even a mortal at all?' She obviously wasn't going to buy it. She'd probably laugh and mock him more. What to do?

"Heh, look. Just leave me be. I'll forget that anything happened. Now if you'll excuse me, '_Loki_', I'm going to go back inside. Go home. Or back to whatever asylum you escaped from. Do us both a favor, yeah?" Metora turned around and walked away.

"Sigyn..." Loki fretted, watching her leave. Becoming a Midgardian had distorted her far from her original self. He used to know how to communicate with her...

It seemed getting in close to 'Metora' would require an entirely new stratagem.

* * *

_A/N: Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading~_


	7. Chapter Three: The God of Mischief

_A/N: Somewhat of a filler chapter. Small bits of attempted humor. Basically Loki and his poor interaction skills being used just to piss off Metora. Which I hardly think is out of character at all. _

_But that's just my opinion._

_And yes, as a matter of fact, Loki's 'mortal' guise comes in the form of the ginger-haired, bearded version of Tom Hiddleston. How devilishly clever, said no one ever._

* * *

_{"If you lost everything in a moment, would you notice? Could you rebuild something so hopeless? Are you hopeless?_

_And when you wake alone, with no one left to hold, you won't need to know all the things I know."}_

* * *

It was _maddening._

There was no solace, no use in hiding. Nowhere outside the walls of her home she could escape from... _Him_. He was everywhere she was. Inside her favorite coffee shop, waiting outside her apartment building, 'accidentally' bumping into her when she walked around a corner. Metora was basically at her rope's end, truly fed up with '_the one known as Loki'_. He was driving her insane.

Cautiously exiting her building one morning, she had adopted habit of scoping for the delusive stalker. He had a tendency to pop up when she was least expecting, causing her guard to be up, as always, but reinforced by bracing for the surprise attacks. All had seemed well on her trip to procure that morning's chosen sustenance comprised of an extra large macchiato and brown sugar-oatmeal muffin. Metora, having a penchant for things piping hot, didn't waste time by allowing her beverage to cool before letting the liquid pass her lips. She swished the coffee around her mouth like Listerine, then swallowed. When all thoughts of the bearded, ginger creep briefly left her mind, that's when he snuck up on her.

"Gorgeous weather we're having." He spoke at her.

Metora spun on her heel to face him, a frustrated growl rumbled deep within her throat.

"It's fucking _overcast_, you ass! Leave me alone!" She chucked her oatmeal muffin at him, turning around sharply to storm away.

When she had stomped her way through a block and a half of sidewalk, 'Loki' had stepped out of an alley to block her path. Metora flinched in immediate surprise. Outstretched in his hand was the muffin she had whipped at his face just minutes earlier. He held it out, as if it were some kind of offering of peace. Metora puckered her lips in dissatisfaction, eyes narrowing beneath her dark tinted sunglasses. Swiping the muffin from the man, she turned her nose up at him and stormed away once more.

* * *

Loki chuckled as she walked away huffy and annoyed. Indeed, he was irked by being shut down time and again by her, yet her childish reactions were amusing. He was a little out of touch with social interaction... Especially with females. But never did he remember a time when conversing with a being of opposite gender was so difficult. This 'new approach' seemed to be wearing down the target, though it was also causing her to become increasingly agitated. Loki knew forcible insertion into her life was the only route. He just wanted Sigyn back. And that would not happen until Metora let him in. He sighed to himself. He'd have to strike while the iron was still hot...

* * *

Back in the penthouse, Metora sat on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest. Resting on them was her sketchbook. She had slowly started to get into the flow of her artistry again, attempting small doodles here and there, regaining confidence. It was never this stressful when she was a kid, living a sheltered life up in the suburbs of Montreal. But that was a life that became harder to live each passing year. Too much had changed too fast... It could never be the same.

Metora had been sketching the form of Artemis, thinking back to an old art assignment she had done in homage to her Greek roots. A knock came to her door soon after she had started to define the lines. Placing her book aside, she stood up and pranced over to the door.

"Spencer, I thought you were coming over later. I-" Metora opened the door, expecting to see the young Scottish woman she and Lola had befriended in the building.

No such luck.

"I've brought you your mail."

"How did you even get _inside_?!" Metora's mouth was agape. There was no way he could have entered without a key and passcode, or without another tenant granting him access. What baffled her even more was the fact that he had her postage in his hands. That too was protected under lock-and-key.

"Give that here. And leave before I call security!" She tore the envelopes from his hands before slamming the door in his face.

Metora head butted the metal plank once it closed, tossing the letters into the nearby basket to sort through later.

"Fucking. _Psycho_." She mumbled.

"Well, that's not very nice of you. After I went through the trouble of getting your mail and all." 'Loki' said.

"Huh?!" Metora whipped around so fast, it disoriented her momentarily. She staggered backwards until she was pressed up against the door.

"How... How did you get in here?" She had just seen him on the other side of the entryway. This had to be a paranoia induced illusion, or something.

"I believe you call it 'teleporting'?" Was his answer, simply shrugging along.

"People can't just teleport!"

"Maybe Midgardians can't. But as I've tried to inform you, I am Loki. And I can, in fact, teleport."

Metora cocked her head to the side in puzzlement, "_Midgardian_?... And are you still going on with that 'Loki' business? Gods don't exist! It's not possible." Her stubbornness and denial were pulling at his last nerves.

"If you would like proof, I'd be more than happy to provide you with substantial evidence, my little non-believer."

She responded with a haughty scoff, "Trust me, pal. There is nothing you could do to prove that you are some sort of..." Each word dragged out of her mouth as she looked up at him in a rising state of disbelief.

The bearded facade vanished, becoming clean-shaven. Gingered curls were inked black and slicked straight. The simple suit he wore flashed bright, molding into an outfit of golden armor and green and black cloth. Finally, atop his head a helmet appeared, framing his face as a pair of golden, gilded horns sprouted from the helmet and curled upwards.

"..._God_." Metora finished her sentence.

"Still deny my claims?" Loki questioned her take on the situation now.

"I..." She stood up a bit straighter, baby-stepping towards the man. She had the instinct to touch the armor and cloth. Loki eyed her ungloved hands as they inched closer.

"I'm not going to burn you, I just want to-" One hand gripped the emerald cape fixed to his armored shoulders. The fabric felt foreign as she rubbed it between her fingers; Soft and smooth, yet nothing like silk or satin.

"May I?" Her other hand reached up, pausing just millimeters away from touching his helmet.

"Do be gentle."

Her eyes rolled as she took to caressing the convex curve of one horn. The metal emitted a note of sound, similar to the instance of tracing a fingertip on the rim of a crystal glass.

"_Whoa_..." Metora was caught up in her feelings of intense intrigue. This was unbelievable and completely entrancing all at the same time. It definitely was more than what she had bargained for, and nothing at all what she had expected. And while she was still brooding over the fact that he had basically become her shadow for the past week, she couldn't help but feel a little fascinated. Was there really truth to the tales of mythology?

Loki grinned as she fawned over his form. This was the best possible outcome of revealing himself to her. It had definitely silenced her vicious, mocking comments for the moment. Her distraction allowed him to take a closer look at her face. He could still see remnants of Sigyn's appearance; The most unmistakable feature were her eyes, of course. The exuberant shade of chartreuse that filled the iris shone just as bright as ever, rings of teal still swam in contrast of the green hue. Many times comfort was sought through the gaze of those eyes by himself. And though they triggered remembrance, what Loki saw lying in the depths was something completely new and unknown.

"What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, if you really are from Asgard, or wherever. Why've you come?" Metora's inquiry fished him out of his thoughts.

"Well that, my dear, is a very long story." Loki answered.

Metora pointed to her living room, "Have a seat. I've got _all_ day.

* * *

_A/N: I'll attempt a more lengthy chapter next time around... Maybe. It could prove to be a horrendous choice._

_So, um... Feedback? Anybody? No? Okay ;-; (But a serious thank-you to Skywriter23 who hasreviewed every chapter so far, to all the other reviewers and story favers and followers, thank you and much love.)_

_{Song excerpt from 'Thrones' by Alexisonfire.}_


	8. Chapter Four: Persuasion

_A/N: Warning~ Dialogue-heavy chapter. Partially filler. _

_Updated earlier than anticipated. Though, that could mean this chapter's structure isn't that fantastic. Fingers crossed~_

* * *

_{"If you knew what I know, would you move like you do? With malicious discontent, you went about, hellbent, to destroy._

_But did you have a reason why?"}_

* * *

Awkward.

Awkward was the perfect word to describe what she was looking at. Namely, the armor clad God sitting rather uncomfortably on the aqua-upholstered sofa in her living room. Metora had second thoughts on her impulsive decision to invite him to stay and provide some sort of explanation as to why he was there in the first place. But she was swimming too deep in an ocean of curiosity to want to kick him out. Though she doubted she could convince him to leave. After all, he had apparently considered having a door slammed in his face permission to enter her home.

"You know, you could, uh... Change back into your suit if you want. I think you've made your point quite clear. Besides, I don't want my roommate to walk in and... React." Metora perched herself on the chair that lay perpendicular to the couch.

Loki's Asgardian garb outlined in the same ethereal gleam as before, swapping for the tailored, black attire.

He seemed a bit more comfortable now, though Metora wasn't particularly concerned with hospitality.

"So tell me, _Loki_... Why are you here? Personally, I'd like to know what possessed you to stalk me and then show up in my home... But, why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Heh, quite demanding, aren't we? You want reason for my presence? It's rather simple. Call it 'redemption'." Loki answered. It wasn't entirely the truth, and yet, wasn't quite a lie either. But even after the night outside the museum, he could not figure any plausible way to bring up the real truth to her. There was a time and a place for everything. And this was neither.

"That's pretty vague. Redemption for what, exactly? And what does it have to do with me? Or am I just some sort of source of amusement to you while you... '_Redeem_' yourself."

He looked perplexed suddenly, "You... Really know nothing of me and my actions?" The pride in his attempt to conquer Earth had been abolished in his time of exile, but surely it wasn't something to be so easily dismissed or forgotten.

"Uh, no? I mean, we studied Norse mythology back in high school, but I've really no idea of what you're expecting me to know. I still can't fully believe you exist, so..." Metora shrugged, "Feel free to fill me in. Might as well."

Loki wasn't sure if it would benefit him to provide the information she was requesting. He didn't want to experience anymore disdain for his foolishness. But...

"I had a desire to rule Midgard once..." He began to recount slowly, "Where you live, here, this... City, had been a war zone between I, the army I once controlled, and the one's who stood to thwart my plans to conquer this realm as my own. Obviously, I had failed in my conquest... But this place had suffered a great deal in the process. Buildings fell to ruins, lives were lost, this island was torn asunder by my lead... And now I find myself back here, in this rebuilt Midgardian metropolis after years of being kept in exile. I suppose this is to be considered my last obstacle in my path of reform."

Loki had been studying Metora's face during his tale, surprised to find that the expression of austerity that seemed fixed upon her visage had not changed in the slightest. He expected some reaction, for her to remain straight-faced was somewhat disturbing.

"That was you?" She said after a momentary interlude of silence, "I had heard the city suffered some kind of tragedy something like, twenty-five years ago. Just a bit before I was born. But never really bothered to look into the facts. I just thought a hurricane had hit or something. You know, a _natural_ disaster?"

"I speak of causing the destruction of the place you call home, and you joke?" Loki's eyebrows raised.

Metora mimicked the expression, "Well, I don't mean to sound obscenely insensitive, but I didn't grow up here, I wasn't even alive when it happened. I didn't move here because of the history or to learn anything about it, because I just don't care, frankly. I've always had a firm belief of leaving what's in the past, in the past." She expressed her opinion, "Don't get me wrong, I don't approve of what you've done. But you're trying to make up for it, aren't you? So I'm choosing to make light of what you've just told me. Simply because I can either judge you on the person you were, or for the person you are now."

Of course she had to admit that being present in a room with a being that once sought tyranny over the earth was a bit frightening, but she chose to stow away any fear. If he was really there to redeem himself as he said, didn't that count for something?

"Or you could be lying. Isn't that your thing?"

"Mischief is more my '_thing_'. The lying just sort of came along with it." Loki's lips pursed, "But as for what I've just told you, I can assure it is no lie. I'm sure you and your Midgardian technology could prove my words true if you doubt me so much."

"I'll take your word for it... What's the deal with you calling me a 'Midgardian'? I have a name, you know. It's 'Metora', and if you're going to sit on my couch, in my living room, in my home, I'd appreciate you using my name."

"Cheeky." He then smirked at her, "Well then, _Metora_, you also wished to know why I've been... 'Stalking' you, as you put it?"

"Uh, _yes_. Yes, that'd be nice for you to clear up." She nodded once.

"I feel I should get acquainted with... Your world. And as much as I'd like to pretend I understand the customs of Midgard, I know I could use-" The way she was glancing at him caused his flow of words to halt momentarily, "-Help. And I would like your help... Please." This was the only direction he felt he could go. Distorting the truth ever so slightly to get what he wanted. His time spent in the Isle of Silence may have convinced him to repent, but some habits could never truly be broken.

Metora failed to hold back any hint of surprise on her face, "You want _my_ help? ... You really could not have picked a worse person." She bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Was he serious? "And I don't have the patience to babysit a wayward God."

"I spent months scouring this planet. There are _many_ worse options. Do you think I feel any sort of pride asking for assistance? I'm not asking you to 'babysit', I just want to attempt to learn what my... Brother sees in this world. And have some sort of honor restored to my name on Asgard."

"Brother?" Metora's eyes lit up with the same piqué of curiosity they did when he revealed his armor. And Loki knew he had her where he wanted.

"Would you like me to tell you of Asgard? Of my brother, and the other Gods? I can tell you many tales of realms far beyond your comprehension." Loki spoke to entice her, "I'll tell you anything. There are seven other realms aside from Midgard and Asgard. I can tell you of them all. I have the sense that you would appreciate the information I can give. All I ask is that you help me understand this place."

Metora bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was actually considering taking him up on the offer.

Loki noted her silent contemplation, "It is much to ask, yes. But you needn't answer me now. Will you think about it? At the very least?"

"Yeah... I'll think about it." She agreed, heaving a long sigh.

He smiled briefly, "Thank-you. I'll patiently await your decision." He rose from the couch.

The handle on the entrance door jiggled suddenly, lock turning with recognition of its key.

"He~ey! I'm home!" Lola chirped as she sauntered in.

"Company." Metora alerted her roommate, unable to resist slapping her palm to her forehead.

"Oh!" Lola peeked into the living room, eyes fixed on Loki, "Who's this?" She then smirked at Metora.

"A friend." She shot her a scathing look, stating it wasn't her business.

"Nice to meet you, _friend_. I'm Lola." She waved cheerfully at the man, "I'm going to get out of your hair, you two. Don't let me interrupt."

As she walked away, Metora sighed once more as she turned back to Loki, "So when I decide, how will I let you know?"

"Simply call my name. I'll hear you." He winked playfully.

Before Metora could spit out a snappy retort, his body evaporated into a tenuous wisp of emerald smoke and he soon vanished.

Metora sunk into the chair, covering her face with her hands. Where was a bottle of scotch when she needed one?

* * *

_A/N: Like all other rookies, I'd love reviews from you darling readers. _

_Special thank you to skywriter23 and Izzy Montague for reviewing the last chapter. Much love, you two. _

_{Song excerpt from 'Shameful' by Atreyu}_


	9. Chapter Five: Deny

_A/N: I suppose this is the part where I say I'm taking a break. I'm not happy with the story, and the stats are clearly not happy with it either. So I've got some thinking to do. Whether to keep it as is_, _revise and rewrite everything, or to stop production completely. So if this is good-bye, I just wanted to thank all who've read this far. You're lovely people for sticking by me and having faith in this story._

* * *

_{"I will show you more, a discovery beyond what you perceive. As you're tangled in thought, believe, and let your soul unleash."}_

* * *

"Hey, hey. No. Put the scotch down, and step away from the liquor cabinet."

Metora cursed internally; Lola always knew when the booze cupboard was being opened. It was like a special sixth sense. A really fucking annoying one in her opinion. Nonetheless, the scotch bottle was set on the shelf again, and Metora rotated around to face her roommate.

"I thought you were going to take a shower?"

"Hah, no, I fibbed. I had one at the gym." Lola swept still damp locks of platinum hair off her face.

"So you were eavesdropping?"

"Hell no! I'm not that nosy... But I would like you to inform me who the heck was just standing in my living room." Metora didn't just bring people over, and the only man she ever let inside the penthouse was Ainsley.

"First of all, it's _our_ living room. I pay bills, too. And secondly, I told you... He's just a friend." She brushed it off, attempting to walk and leave the conversation at that.

Lola blocked her path, "Come on, man. Cut the crap. Who was he? Does little Tora finally have a boyfriend?" She nudged playfully.

"Oh good God, _no_. No, no, no." Metora shook her head, shoving past the blonde to escape to the kitchen.

"Why not? He's cute! Just tell me who he is!" Lola followed her roommate into the kitchen to continue pestering her.

The two stood on opposing side of the island counter in the middle of the room, eyes locked in a dead stare. Metora's teeth gritted and her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, knowing Lola wouldn't let up until she said something.

"..."

"..."

"... ... _Fine_. You win." Metora admitted defeat through her clenched teeth, "He's the guy who's been stalking me."

Metora saw no point in lying about that part, but it was as far into the reality of the situation as she would allow Lola to enter. And what else she didn't see, was her roommate's hand reaching out to slap her rather abruptly.

"... _**Ow**_?! What the hell was that for?!" Metora's hand cupped her stinging cheek, tossing a bewildered look to the blonde.

"I thought that's what you're supposed to do when someone is fucking _delirious_! What were you thinking bringing him in here?! Did you not just say he's been stalking you?!" Lola scolded harshly.

"Well, if you would have let me finish instead of smacking me! Jesus, woman..." She was seriously regretting putting the scotch back, she could really use a glass right now. Or two. "I was going to tell you, the thing was just a misunderstanding."

"Please, elaborate that one for me." Lola crossed her arms under her bust, a stern look creasing her brow.

"Well, obviously I was drinking that night..." Having to come up with a plausible lie at a moment's notice was never Metora's strong suit, but she tried anyways, "And I told you I didn't have my lighter on me. He was going to offer me his, but I freaked out. It was my mistake completely." She didn't like lying in the first place, let alone lying to Lola. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Seriously?... But, didn't your hand burn him? Did he ask about it?" Lola looked worried now, seeming to believe the story.

"He never brought it up, he was at the bar too that night. Must have had a few drinks himself." Metora said, suddenly realizing who had been the stranger in the back of the pub who bought her the drink.

"Phew! Dodged that bullet... Geez, Metora, have you ever thought of cutting back on all these bad habits? You don't need shit like this to happen again. That was cutting it a little too close for comfort."

"No I haven't, _mom_. Just let me live while I'm young."

"Keep it up and you'll die young, too."

"That's the spirit." Metora grinned.

"Do you really want to put your mother through the loss of another child?"

That wiped the smirk off her face instantly, "Please don't bring that up."

"You're right, you're right. Sorry. I'm just saying ease up a little... I'm going to take a nap."

"What, didn't you nap at the gym, too?" Metora spat out a rather snarky comment. Lola rolled her eyes in response and disappeared from the kitchen.

As soon as Metora could make sure the blonde had actually went to lie down, she went back to the liquor cabinet.

* * *

Metora and the scotch had ventured into her room, where she uncapped the bottle and drank it straight. Plunking into the chair at her desk, she picked up a wiry, copper picture frame and viewed the photograph with a light smile on her lips.

It was of her and her brother, Maddock, who was suited in his military uniform. The last picture she took with him before he was shipped overseas.

"Those were better times, eh? Where'd you go, Maddy?" She muttered to herself, setting the picture back down.

Lola's comment still bugged her, enough to make her put the cap back on the scotch and set it down as well, no longer feeling in the mood for coasting through the rest of her evening, half-drunk. Her fingers drummed the desktop while she pondered what to do. Eyeing the laptop that lay open on her bed, Metora scoffed once,

"'_Midgardian technology_'..."

Did she really take his word for it? All of that which he told. If it were true, the Internet would have at least some record of it, right? There was only one way to find out.

Metora grabbed the computer and turned it on, impatiently sitting through the start up. As she opened the browser, she questioned what exactly she'd search to find the right information. 'Manhattan 2012' was typed into the Google bar, and she tapped 'Enter', hoping the choice was correct.

Pages popped up instantly, the basic synopsis of each read something along the lines of an alien invasion.

This is where Metora hesitated. If this was the army Loki mentioned having control of, that should be sufficient proof, right? The influential contents of the web pages concerned her. If she was seriously considering taking up the task of assisting this... 'God' in getting back on his feet, the less she knew about the incident, the better... But as the information stared her in the face, it became more tempting to read.

Metora slapped the screen down and shoved the laptop under her pillow, as if hiding it would kill the urging voice of curiosity that echoed in her head. She wouldn't look, nope...

Maybe one site.

* * *

What a frustrating little mortal she had become. A week had passed and still he heard no word from her. It made Loki lack faith that he'd ever be able to wake up whatever remnants of Sigyn's memory that lay inside Metora's subconscious. He could see it in the way she looked at him, something within was struggling to recognize him. Whether she herself noticed this, Loki had hoped that by accepting his offer those sleeping fragments would be jarred with the tales he could tell of Asgard and the fellow realms.

But he still required an answer. Until then, there really wasn't much he could do but sit and wait. He had to admit, the Midgardian landscape was an nice sight from his viewpoint atop a skyscraper. Especially considering buildings weren't toppling like dominoes, and hordes of Chitauri warriors weren't flying en masse out of a dimensional rift. He still felt antagonistic towards this world, but there was no shame in appreciating something so small.

"Uh... Loki? Yeah, you know, I feel stupid right now because I'm basically speaking to the air, but wherever you are... I think my mind is made up." He heard Metora call him. She was mumbling under her breath, suggesting she was somewhere out in the open.

He smirked at the request for his presence, heeding the summon immediately to hear the eagerly awaited answer.

"Did I hear correctly? You have an answer for me?"

"Oh my God!" Metora flinched, letting out a startled shriek.

The space on the bench next to her had gone from empty to occupied in the blink of an eye, Loki having appeared in his bearded guise.

"Geez, we're in public. Would it kill you to be a little more discreet so I don't have to look like a jackass for screaming?" She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead.

"My apologies. I'll try to use more discretion next time." He watched her light a cigarette; His nose crinkled at the unfamiliar scent of burning tobacco.

"It's alright. Come on, let's walk." She stood, gesturing for him to follow.

Loki acquiesced, sticking close to her side as she lead him on a simple stroll. Metora puffed a ring of smoke, tapping loose ashes off her cigarette, not entirely sure how to instigate the conversation.

"Your answer, please? You did say you made up your mind, did you not?" Loki took it upon himself to speak up first.

"Yeah, I'm getting to that..." She sighed, "I'll be honest, I did doubt what you told me a week ago. So, I looked it up and sure enough, there's all the evidence... The photos made the situation a lot worse than just hearing you talk about it."

Loki fretted; He didn't care for how this was going. Before he could speak any words of protest, Metora continued, "Well, I said I wouldn't judge you for it, and I didn't. In fact, I left it out of the consideration process completely."

"Then why has it taken you this long to reach a verdict?"

"Because my first impression of you is '_psycho stalker_'? I mean, you can't do that here. That sort of thing gets you a restraining order." Metora shook her head, taking a last drag of her cigarette before tossing it in the gutter.

"Well, there. I've learned one thing already. Midgardians do not stalk each other." Loki noted.

"Well, some do, but it's not technically legal... Anyway, you wanted my answer, right?" She stopped and turned to face him.

Loki mirrored this, "I would very much like to know what you've decided."

"My answer is-"

She had thought hard about this, weighing both factors of not wanting the job of babysitting an ancient being and teaching him the ways of the human race, and also the bit of pity she'd feel if she sent him off on his own, either to try and find another for help, struggle to figure everything out by himself, or to simply go back home with nothing to redeem himself...

And as always, one option outweighed the other, even slightly.

"- No."

* * *

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. _

_Thank you Skywriter23, Izzy Montague and Nony (anonymous) for your reviews last time. They sent my heart soaring. _

_And thank you Torrid Venom for the follow, I hope I can fix my attitude on this story so I can keep posting chapters for you to come back to. _

_{Song excerpt from 'Follow the Signs' by Born of Osiris.}_


	10. Author's Note

_Hey there, lovelies! This is the darling admin of this fan fiction account, you may call me Dee-Dee. _

_So for the last little while I've been focused on rewriting the prologue chapters. They were lacking so much. So they've been officially updated! :) I hope you enjoy the revisions, I've worked quite hard on them. And don't be shy! Drop a line in the review box. I can handle your feedback. It's an important thing to know how I'm doing. I only want to create a story that's as enjoyable for you to read as it is for me to write. So please, please let me hear what thoughts are running around your beautiful minds :)_

_As for new chapters, I'll get back to writing them as soon as I can! In preoccupied with some other ideas at the moment, still related to this story, don't worry. I hope to post a two side collections. One for fluff, another for smut ;) I hope you'll take an interest in reading them as well!_

_In the meantime, if you're looking for a story to read, I highly suggest 'Point of No Return' (FrostWidow) or 'L'Etoile Noire' (LokixOC) by my dear, wonderful, and talented friend, user: soirblanche. _

_Talk to you all soon, thank you for reading my story and this note!_

_Much love,_

_DarlingDeathMachine/Dee-Dee_


End file.
